Demon's Ire
by Wends
Summary: [AD&D AU] Fate carried by the words of a Vistani prophetess carry Sumeragi Subaru into a gathering of misfits destined to save humanity or destroy it. [SK,SS,FK,Sorashi,etc. Rated for violence,language,etc]
1. Prelude

A/N 1: This alternate universe fic is placed in the Forgotten Realms setting of the AD&D system (yes, I use second edition only. Third edition makes me twitch. 'course, been playing 2nd since the late '80s... it's a bit hard to change when you've gone for over 15 years on a set of rules. :P) and utilizes the combat system (yep, I roll out all the battles) and the monsters with their spiffy stats. I do this because I'm too damned lazy to run this story in my own fantasy world. No knowledge of AD&D is necessary to enjoy the fic – it's just a fantasy piece.

A/N 2: I'll be doing my damnedest to keep everyone's relative personalities intact and the plotline CLAMPesque, but do be aware that some people will be a bit… different. After all, I'm getting a bit further along with some of the characters than CLAMP ever did. They never explained the motives of my favorite character. (sniffs, patting poor neglected Yuuto's head) Also, for some jobs/kits/professions (like a necromancer vs. an onmyouji, or a ranger vs. an inugami priestess, and so on and so forth) there've been slight revisions to the character. Unavoidable. Didn't want everyone to be a priest, as that makes for a very unbalanced campaign. Also going mostly by first names as this is based off of typically European fantasy settings with its castles and dragons (yes, Seiichiro, Seishiro. Gah. Hate the similarities) with the exception of Subaru – as he's not from the Faerun (the main continent), he's allowed to have a different language structure (which'll reflect more traditional Japanese. Yep, he'll be calling him Aoki-san). So bah. Deal with Seiichiro, no matter how unnatural it is to read (and type!).

Disclaimer: I in no way own X or the AD&D system. Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

They moved silently through the woods.

Not a single snap of a branch nor rustle of a disturbed leaf marked the passage of the dark company as they made their way along time-erased paths, slinking slowly and with dire purpose towards the small alcove in the mountains before them. The faint moonlight above barely caught glimpses of the traveling party, skittering for a moment upon pale flesh here, blackened armor there, steal and iron held in leather-gloved fist. Dappled light, barely able to caress the dark forest floor with its touch, was thoroughly avoided by the small gathering of persons as they slunk soundlessly towards their destination.

In that alcove was a sizable cave, its true dimensions obscured by the carefully arranged rock formations situated before it and covered with lichens, mosses and small plants. The ivy that coursed over that cave's opening aided those rocks in their task of hiding the depression in the mountain side, dragging its tendrils thickly over the yawning portal to the ancient mount's interior.

As the forest thinned, its trees becoming sparse as the ground near that alcove became too rock-filled to sustain sizable vegetation, the company came to a halt. Dark eyes, narrowed and observant, stared at the cramped interior of the space the gathering had entered without detection. Mostly those eyes focused their gaze at the heavily obscured cave entrance, barely discernable from the cliff's face owing to the thick ivy covering that protected it from immediate view.

"Our goal lies there, my friends," one voice softly whispered. "Prepare yourselves."

One of the six persons huddled in the sparse vegetation before that looming darkness-flooded cavern turned unconcerned hazel eyes at her companion. "You are certain this is the one?"

"Yes," the thick man quietly affirmed. "The balance's shift rests within that cavern. I saw this very image within my reflecting pool two fortnights preceding this night." His hand tightened upon the gnarled haft of his scimitar. "That one who would see to humanity's continued destruction of the natural world of Toril rests within."

The woman slowly nodded, turning her bland stare back to the cavern. "I am surprised you have no issues with this, druid."

"I know it bothers you not, Priestess of Gond, as the mechanisms of your God have no concern about the lives of those we must destroy. I do not have an issue with this slaughter as it is necessary. The fate of the natural world rests within the balance. Humanity's interference must be slowed, if not entirely stopped, before they destroy themselves by demolishing the very lands that harbor and nourish them."

A light, almost jovial voice whispered from behind the two, "Of course the druid would have no issues. Let us move, then. We've work to do, my friends."

The person next to that flippant voice's owner nodded once. "The longer we delay, the more likely the probability of detection. These creatures are highly aware of their surroundings. I can not mask us forever from their abilities with my psionics."

The final person of the company slithered out of the shadows, almost appearing to be one himself as he separated from the mass that masked the gathering. Brandishing his serrated dagger in one hand and slowly turning the tri-bladed parrying knife he wielded in hi other, he flashed a debonair smirk at his companions, amber eyes sparkling. "Let's not wear our Kakyou out. We've a beast to slaughter, a Vistani prophetess' vision to destroy, and our dear friend to rescue from his own destiny."

The lighthearted one's laugh lightly caressed the ears of those who surrounded him. "Indeed. Let us get on with our task, neh? After all, it would be most callously rude of us to keep our own prophetess' wishes delayed any longer. The sister of the Vistani princess expects us to finish tonight."

"Let us go," the first to speak, the massive druid in his dark clothing with his scimitar firmly held in his enormous hand, muttered with a nod.

The company burst from the vegetation that had hid them from detection.

Roars echoed through the night.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Toru hurried down the sun-bathed grassy slope, carefully picking her footing upon the steep incline. Her natural agility made her progress swift and clean, ensuring she didn't stumble and fall, but care was needed to not stumble upon the random rocks that jutted out of the deceptively kind landscape.

How her companion could move so swiftly and easily before her was boggling her mind. He was no trained rogue, after all, and wasn't one to whom agility and grace would be quickly attributed.

The priest of the goddess Akadi was an experienced wanderer of the road though. Indeed, he'd seen many a year of adventure and journey unlike his young rogue companion who'd barely set out upon her very first campaign a quick three fortnights past.

They were quite the odd pairing to be seen together.

Toru was a strikingly beautiful young woman, bearing upon her lithe frame and dark-haired head an aura of confidence bordering upon arrogance in the depth of her nubile abilities. Dressed in tightly fitted pants crafted of supple dark brown leather and a blouse of soft yellow silk that tucked into those pants and ballooned about her well-defined figure, she was a striking image to behold with her mocha hair tied into a long, lush ponytail at the nape of her neck and her soft wavy bangs hanging in equally soft, luminous brown eyes. Around her slender waist was wrapped a hard black leather belt held in place by a strong silver-colored simply designed loop buckle, sturdy enough to support the weight of the scabbard she possessed and the finely crafted dagger said browned scabbard held along with the thick canvas bag in which she held her wealth. That bag, containing her silver and copper amongst the few golden pieces she and her companion had earned for their hard work and the gems she'd relieved a merchant of, accompanied the weighty backpack that sat squarely between her lithe shoulder blades to encompass her worldly possessions. Soft slip-on riding boots, died black with hard soles, adorned her feet to protect them from the rocks and mud of the landscape. Armor sat loosely about her shoulders, being nothing more than a supple leathery tunic covered with a plethora of skillfully sewn-on rings of hard iron, covering her vitals to afford her protection yet allowing her all the mobility the simple shirt she wore under that soft piece of thick animal skin would grant her for her work. Her only weapon, the dagger in the scabbard upon her belt, was an instrument of beauty in of itself – stolen from an artisan's stand, it sported a glistening golden hilt crafted skillfully into the shape of a dragon; the creature's wings formed the splayed protectors, the tail made the hilt and the blade of the weapon erupted from the dragon's opened mouth. That blade was waved and etched to imitate the fire that supposedly blasted from the hilt-dragon's maw, finishing the masterpiece that was now rightfully hers.

Her companion, the priest of the Queen of Air, was a tall, stately man decked in the soft robes of white, light gray and light blue that represented his goddess' many differing faces. Those robes, crafted of heavy cotton and dyed such that the differing colors swirled and flowed about the priest that wore them, were accompanied by a large pendent crafted of sapphire and etched with Akadi's symbol hanging upon a slender silver chain that was his holy symbol, the icon through which he channeled his deity's powers and crafted his magic. About his well-shaped waist to gather his robes into a manageable garment to allow for easy travel was a silken sash, silver in color and tied decoratively into a loop which supported the weight of his ever-present iron-headed mace, its weight balanced by a handily hung quiver of flight arrows that dangled upon his opposite hip from that same sash. Under those robes, known only to him and his companion upon the road, rested enchanted chain mail laid over comfortably quilted padding specifically designed for his sturdy and finely toned frame, granted to him by the elves themselves as thanks for some grand service he'd done them on one of his past adventures. His boots, browned with the road's dirt, were once a soft gray to match his garments. Chocolate eyes peered with wonder and almost childish glee upon the road through finely crafted spectacles, their corrective glass held by delicate golden rims upon his lightly sloped nose. Soft brown hair swung into his face every now and again, sweeping into soft waves of bangs that caressed his forehead while the rest of its lengths were cut closely to his head. Upon his back, much like his female companion, rested a backpack containing his life's possessions and that bit of wealth he necessitated for survival or had not yet tithed, and upon the top of that backpack was strapped his bow.

He had agreed to take her from the boredom that was her life and teach her the ways of the road when he had swept into her hometown of Neverwinter. They'd been journeying, quite excitingly and profitably, for quite some time, getting to know one another's capacities and styles. She enjoyed his company, lavishing in his friendship, and he felt the same. Nothing more than friendship had erupted though – the priest was simply too flighty for her liking, being one with the wind that he served and revered (she understood fully now why the Airwalkers of Akadi were often referred to as 'windbags'). As for him, Toru, while three years older than his gentle seventeen years, was still a child. After all, she had spent her twenty years of life enclosed in the protection of a town, living in the safety of her parents' house and never giving thought to the repercussions of her 'hobby' until the magistrate caught her in his house trying on his mistress' finest gowns for 'fun.' He had been on the road since his thirteenth year, running away from his parents' house in the far-off township of Starmantle Bay to follow the call of the wind and learn the Queen of Air's mysteries.

They finally reached the bottom of the slope they'd been skirting for the last few minutes, intending to cut through the sparse wood before them.

"You're certain the trade route to Waterdeep lies on the other side of this wood?" Toru asked, arching a brow at the priest. She had faith in his ability to journey – however, his navigation skills were as trustworthy as the wind itself.

"I'm positive, Toru! I know precisely where we are. In fact, it was but two years ago that I found this very shortcut. It was an accidental discovery then, but not one I'll likely ever forget."

"Do tell, Seiichiro."

Smiling brightly, the priest adjusted his spectacles slightly. "I'll never forget it, as it swept me right past a dragon lair."

"Seiichiro Aoki, you lunatic! Why are we going anywhere near _dragons?_" Toru nearly screeched, her eyes springing wide with panic.

"Ah, there's nothing to fear, Toru! They're silver!"

She glared fitfully at the jovial priest. "And?"

"Do you know nothing of dragons? Silver dragons are quite good, being creatures of law and kindness. They often disguise themselves as humans to mingle with us."

"I don't believe you," she huffed.

"Ah, you shall see," Seiichiro happily chirped.

She held her head in dismay as she followed his robed form into the vegetation.

It was two hours before Seiichiro stopped his steady gait, coming to an abrupt halt right before her. She very narrowly avoided slamming full-force into his broad back.

"What did you-"

"My dearest Goddess," he softly interrupted, his voice filled with horror, his attention directed entirely away from her and upon the scene he was witnessing from the tree's protection.

Stopping her rant mid-sentence, Toru instead got up on her tip-toes and stared over her companion's shoulder. Her eyes sprang open.

The alcove before them glistened ruby-red in the afternoon's sun.

Instinctively, Toru dropped back to the flats of her feet, covering her mouth with her hands.

Two large silver dragons lay perfectly still in the open, their jaws open, blood congealed below their massive frames. That in itself wasn't that brought the bile of her stomach to her mouth, though.

The corpses of the glorious beast, whose praises her priestly compatriot had been singing during their entire journey through the thin wood, were ravaged. Indeed, they appeared to be deliberately cut to pieces, parts of them salvaged – teeth, eyes, choice scales, talons, pieces of tongue, chunks of heart and intestine, vital organs, the tips of horns and other such oddities were missing.

"By Akadi, they were butchered for spell components," Seiichiro softly hissed. "Good creatures who protected these woods and the villages near it from the ogres and giants of the nearby hills were butchered for spell components. I can't believe this."

Stepping forward, Toru stared with abject horror in her eyes.

It wasn't just the two giant beasts.

She felt tears spill upon her cheeks as she stared at fragments of eggshell, the yellow yolk that once filled the vessel dried upon the hard rocks of the alcove, the small dragon that once laid curled in that egg butchered like its parents, its tiny frame crumpled and twisted with rigor.

A steadying hand found her shoulder. "They were likely defending their clutch. It takes a being of incredible evil to do such a heinous deed," Seiichiro mumbled.

"Let's search the lair," Toru finally managed to get her throat to release.

"What?"

"Let's search the lair," she whispered again, "and see if anything survived.

Inside the lair was no more beautiful than the lands immediately outside of the ivy-covered cave's entrance. Gold and jewels laid littered everywhere, accompanying finely crafted swords and armor, boxes of unopened treasures, fine statues, delicate vials of perfumes and potions, scrolls and wands, rods of untold powers and the like. Such quantities, undisturbed save for the falls of dragon and butchering foe foot dashing the contents of the lair's horde about, seemed to confirm what Seiichiro had muttered outside – that they dragons had been indeed slaughtered for spell components. Most of the treasure, while normally something that would be scampering into Toru's talented fingers and eager bag, had lost its gleam and lustful quality with the fine layer of fetal dragon blood that was splayed about, dashed over treasure, cave floor and cave wall in grotesque quantities. Smashed eggshell crushed underfoot, the crackling sound much like the breaking of delicate bone.

Stopping her short sojourn through the cavern, Toru let the sickness that overwhelmed her at the smell and sight of the slaughter of such innocent, harmless creatures pass, relinquishing her breakfast upon the cavern floor.

As Seiichiro lightly rubbed her shoulder, standing behind her in silent support, her sharp ears caught the odd sound of light tapping a few feet to her side. Turning her head, she stared.

The small pile of gold that was beside her was tapping.

A golden coin rolled down the mound and twirled about on the ground.

"Something's in there," Toru softly whispered, pointing shakily at the pile.

Seiichiro already had his mace ready, gripping its haft tightly in his hand. His bow remained upon his back, him realizing how pointless the weapon would be to wield within an enclosed cavern despite it being his weapon of choice.

Toru slipped away from the priest, her dagger being readied quickly in her right hand to defend her. Gulping nervously, she reached towards the bloodstained pile with her trembling free fingers, brushing the vitae-splattered coins away.

She nearly cheered as she revealed a small, brown-spotted white egg. "Seiichiro! One made it!"

A pleased sigh escaped the priest as he quickly stowed his mace, his eyes glistening in unshed tears of satisfaction. "Thank you, Akadi," he whispered in soft reverence and grateful pleasure.

The eggshell suddenly cracked, then stopped moving entirely. Without thinking, Toru reached out, her dagger dropped at her feet and her illness over the thick blood that surrounded her forgotten. Laying her hands upon the shell, she hastily dug her fingernails into the slender crack. "Come on, little guy. I'll help you out of there. You must be so tired, after such a trying time. Not even born yet, and already you've been through so much."

Seiichiro knelt at her side, sliding her dagger away in its scabbard lest she forget it, then assisting her in her task by tackling the crack a bit further along the egg. With their combined strength, they pulled the top of the stubborn shell open.

Toru gushed with delight as she stared into the newly opened shell.

Laying in the bottom of its egg, weariness evident in its tiny frame, the small silver dragon blinked tired amethyst eyes at Toru.

"It's so cute," she cooed even as she reached into the egg, fearlessly caressing the tiny dragon's head.

As it peeped cheerfully, its tiny pink tongue licking eagerly at her offered fingers, the dragon struggled to lift its head to her hands.

Seiichiro sighed quietly, dipping his hands into the shell and handily lifting the three-foot long body free from its prison. "Well now, whatever shall we do with you?"

"We can't just leave it here," Toru said, her eyes focused on the brilliant violet orbs of the baby that was mewing pathetically at her. "It'll die without its parents."

"Maybe we can deliver it to a sage in Waterdeep."

"No! A sage will experiment on it! Or turn it into a servant!"

"Toru-"

"I'm keeping it."

"What will your parents say?" Seiichiro questioned, staring at the small creature in his arms as it yawned, displaying its tiny fangs for the world.

"I… I don't care. I'm not going to leave it to die."

"It's not some human orphan you…"

Toru's eyes sparkled. "What if it was?"

Seiichiro smiled brightly. "But if it was, they'd have no objections to you arriving back at home with it, would they?"

"Precisely. Come! We must get to town and find a mage!"

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

It was nearly an entire fortnight later when Toru finally returned to her hometown of Neverwinter. With the fortunes she'd made on her short journey with the wandering priest of Akadi, she purchased her own small house and began to ply the skills she'd been intended to practice to make her living by her parents' wishes – she began to cook the pies her mother had taught her to make and sell them in the marketplace. Her parents agreed to assist her while she got her feet underneath her, readily accepting their newly adopted grandchild into their family.

She lusted for the road, but she had something to keep her rooted.

And as long as that which kept her rooted to her town and her life of mediocrity needed her, she truly didn't mind.

The small chubby infant in its basinet squirmed, its tiny pink limbs reaching for her as she swooped over its to give it the bottle that contained its breakfast.

"Welcome home, my dear son," she cooed, lightly brushing the tiny tuft of black hair that erupted from the child's head.

"Are you certain you'll be alright?" Seiichiro asked even as he pulled the cinches shut on his backpack, prepared to return to the road that evening.

"I'll be fine," Toru said, a smile upon her lips. "Thank you for ensuring that we got settled in alright."

"It's my pleasure," Seiichiro proclaimed with a nod. "Do expect to see me again."

"Oh, you better! He'd better not be lacking for his 'Uncle Seiichiro' in his life."

Laughing brightly, the priest shook his head. "He won't be. I promise to swing by soon enough." Walking to the basinet's side, he lightly stroked the baby's cheek, grinning as innocent amethyst eyes stared lovingly up at him even while eager lips suckled at the bottle's nipple. "He certainly is a cute little baby, isn't he?"

"That mage did a marvelous job with his _polymorph_ spell," Toru agreed.

"Well, then, I should be on my way."

"Goodbye, Seiichiro," the young rogue softly said, enveloping the priest in a gentle hug.

"Goodbye, Toru. I wish you luck with the boy."

She laughed brightly. "Kamui and I will be just fine."

_tbc..._


	2. Chapter I

Review reply: Feather-chan! Thanks for reviewing this story. I rather like writing fantasy (and unique fantasy at that), so how could I resist writing once the thought of crossing a game system and X popped into my skull? Thanks for your encouragement. Here's more story! (rings gong) BTW, I'd love to read your idea for a Fuuma-as-a-dragon fic should you write it!

Disclaimer: I in no way own X or AD&D. Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

A sigh leaked from his lungs.

Staring down the long road he was traveling, the young man in his time-worn cream-colored tunic and dust-graced beige breeches lifted a slender hand to wipe beaded sweat from his pale brow, lifting damp black bangs from moist skin. His dark brown boots continued their ceaseless journey along the path that had been his companion and home for the last few weeks he'd been making his way steadily north from the summer-beat city of Waterdeep, each heavy and tired step stirring the dust he trod upon without care. As the sun washed him in its hot waves without a single cloud present to give him a shred of relief and the closest forest already three days behind him, the young man laden with his backpack in which he carried his life's possessions and his satchel with its precious tome, his belt pouches with their oddities and the few coins he'd garnered in his travels, his saya with its katana hanging upon his hip, he grumbled tiredly and without joy at the seemingly hopeless state of his situation.

The trail had already gone cold. He would never catch up with the murderer he pursued.

All he would do was hope to clean up the mess that was always inevitably left behind, freeing those spirits killed by his prey's dagger from their servitude to the demonic entity he served. All he could hope to do was destroy their connection to the physical world - the grip of that which held those souls was far stronger than he, making it an impossibility for him to send those doomed spirits to their proper resting place.

For nine years now he'd been tracking the man who served that which set its wraith servants against the living, tasked to catch him before he'd kill again and end his life-long work. He'd been tracking the assassin he sought restlessly since he'd learned the truth behind the man who was once his dearest friend, his most precious companion.

It was his job as the head of his clan to put an end to the murderer's actions. It was his job to eliminate any threat to the land his nomadic clan chose to call home.

And as their leading expert in necromantic magic, he and he alone was assigned to hunt the creator of wraiths, to stop him before he killed again and created anew.

For so long now he'd failed. Trailing the slippery assassin for over nine years, he'd always been one step behind, one day too late to save those who were his prey's targets. And while he could put those hapless wraiths created by their induction to the demon tree that demanded their souls and blood to rest from their constant vigil over the physical world, he could do nothing to free them from its branches and its roots, nothing to usher them to the destiny they longed for, nothing to stop that man who committed them to the beautiful, wicked plant that dominated the center of the isle his clan had been calling 'home' for the last two decades from killing again.

To make matters worse, every time he encountered the man he lost to him.

It wasn't as if he was so inferior or his prey so experienced. Indeed, they were equal in strength these days, if his battles last winter against the assassin that had rang through the snowy night in Scardale when they'd met had any inkling of truth behind them in matters of true skill.

Once he'd been weaker in magical fortitude. The last nine years of study, of practice and manipulation of the Weave to thwart the man he hunted, had placed him as being vastly greater in the Art than the assassin. Only the killer's clever plots and plans, his speed with the dagger and willingness to abandon magic for the blade kept him from defeat these days.

And while their different schools of specialty placed them entirely at odds with one another, their sheer inexperience due to restrictions placed upon their study of their opposing schools making them weaker to one another than any generalist mage would be facing either of them, they both had enough magical strength and confidence in their own studies to be remarkable. Necromancy, while a powerful school devoted to controlling life, death and undeath, had no protection or response for the school of Illusion, and vice versa. They were opposites. They once had been equals. Now that was no longer true.

The assassin, however, had far greater skill with the blade. While his hunter was not at all inexperienced utilizing weapons and was indeed an impressive specialist with the rare eastern katana who's art was more than capable of putting the most experienced of warriors to shame, the prolific murderer had been utilizing his deadly daggers and practicing his two-handed style for as many years as his stalker had lived. He was deadly swift with his double blades, so very accurate that he was able to stay on par with even the specialist, parrying and attacking every time their blades whistled towards one another. Indeed the young hunter had to remain on his toes whenever his prey drew steel and abandoned his illusions, for it was then that he lost his advantage and, despite his far greater strength granted him by his heritage, was forced into defense.

So had their rivalry gone on for nearly a decade - the hunted allowed his hunter to catch up with him when the snows began to fall from the heavens to challenge him to a test of magic and might. Every year the assassin won. Every year he playfully spared his stalker's life, encouraging him to gain the strength that he lacked, to become someone worthwhile of his caustic sight.

That, perhaps, was what made the young necromancer's hunt so painful.

The fact that every year he was spared, that he was yet an entity worthy of being a proper adversary to dispose of, that he was not so worthy of the assassin's time as his own dear twin sister had been nearly one decade past, continued to kill what remained of his soul after every encounter.

Nine years ago, he'd unwittingly fallen in love with the one he now hunted.

Nine years ago, when the murderer had destroyed his soul with his sinful smile and his whisper of 'you mean nothing to me,' the man who now hunted him had slipped into the deepest recesses of his soul, unable to face harsh reality. Alone in the dark grove, unwilling and unable to move in his catatonic state, he remained buried in the depths of his heart, his body and mind so detached from one another that he felt nothing - no cold, no wind, no fall of snow upon eternally opened eyes and lashes, no passage of nearly a week's worth of starvation and dehydration. The man had left him to die at the mercy of nature, not considering him worthy of death by his own wicked daggers, then slaughtered his sister and abandoned him to the wretched snows of their isle home's mountain passes with her body as his only companion. Adding insult to injury, as the catatonic state he was trapped in dissolved with her slaughter, the blood-tainted man had proclaimed that she was indeed a worthwhile addition to his demonic lord's collection of souls, worth enough to fulfill the pact his clan had made with that terrible entity a thousand years ago and provide him with its full power.

After the necromancer had been forced to lay the soul of his own precious sibling to rest, condemning her forever to the flowered boughs of the enormous sakura that was the isle's center point, he'd made the decision to pursue the one who'd killed her, who'd abandoned him, who'd pronounced him unworthy of even death by his hands after a year of falsified love and illusory emotions.

His boots scraped over cobblestone.

Startled by the sudden change in pitch created by his footfall, the young man lifted his emerald-eyed gaze to observe his surroundings.

He'd come upon the town that had been marked as his destination more swiftly than he'd suspected he would.

He glanced about the sprawling town, his eyes taking in the sights. He had passed just a couple feet beyond the tall gates that guarded Neverwinter from those murdering forces that would seek to rape and pillage its sanctity. A nicely paved road snaked before him, lined by trees, market stands, carts, two stables, twin inns, small permanent shops and torch lamps. The street was filled with the throngs of summertime merchants and customers, busily bustling about with their daily business. All in all, the town looked wholly undisturbed.

The young man decided to head towards the closer of the two inns.

Pushing the doors of the establishment open, he stepped from heated cobblestone to shade-cooled wood, his worn boots thumping hollowly upon the old floor. Letting his gaze rove once more, he sighed softly, his voice filled with mixed relief and disappointment. Relief at the realization that the journey he'd been one was finally at a temporary end. Disappointment at the realization that this town would very likely not readily welcome him with lowered prices on room and board in exchange for his services, this being the height of the trading season and the beginning of the profit push before winter's chill, now only three months away in these far northern reaches of the continent of Faerun, settled over the town's inhabitants.

Walking towards the bar, the young man was instantly swallowed into the pulsing crowd that flooded the inn's common area. Dingy yellowed light flung from torches held in economically designed iron brackets danced over the establishment's inhabitants and the randomly scattered tables that served both as dining benches and meeting areas, filtered by the heavy smoke that seeped from both torch and pipe. Loud rowdy laughter and bellowing conversation smothered any soft sound that tried to survive the crowded environment, slaughtering the playful tunes of a local bard's lute to all save by those within his immediate vicinity - and judging by the numbers that were massed as far from the neonate musician as they could be, one could be thankful for the racket. Ale spilled upon tables and pooled on the floor, seeping slowly into the wood, adding its circular stains to those that had made their permanent declaration of existence over the inn's long life. The thump of a hand on a back, the squeal of a barmaid having her bottom groped, the laughter of companions at an old adventurer's comical tale of journeys long past, the barking of the hefty bald barkeep's voice ordering the cooks hidden behind the kitchen's walls to hop to it and get orders out assaulted the young man's ears as he slipped unmolested to the counter that was the barkeep's domain.

Clearing his throat, he waited patiently until the burly man turned his way. "Excuse me," he began with a voice softened and weathered by his long journey, "but might I inquire about the price of a room for the night?"

The huge man's thick brow furrowed slightly, the lines that had worn their way into his flesh deepening and rippling through folded sun-touched skin. Heavy hands, one gripping a glass stein yellowed by repetitious work and the other holding a stained, dingy cloth, made quick work of swiping out the inside of the glass before it was dunked into the opened barrel of cheap yellow ale that stood protected behind the bar's age-touched wooden counter. Setting the filled stein down with a heavy thud onto a waiting barmaid's tray and shooing her off with a wave of a short-fingered hand, the barkeep meandered towards his newest customer, his stained apron swaying about his legs even as it bunched at his thick middle with his walk. Lifting a hand to stroke his hanging, stubble-lined jowls, he frowned. "For you?" he grunted, his voice as thick and deep as the rest of him, his hand not busy moving the loose flesh of his face balling into a fist and resting upon an unmarked waist denoted only by the band of his pants hugging tightly to his body in that position. A chuckle oozed from his lips, the belly that hung over those brown pants' waistband jiggling. "I'll cut you a deal. Only three copper a night for the cheapest room I got open."

The thin young man in his road-dust stained clothing sighed quietly, his emerald eyes focusing on the counter rather than the man who had stated the price of a high quality room in every other town of similar size he'd visited. "I see. Perhaps, then, I shall go to your competitor down the road. I thank you for your time."

Shrugging once, the barkeep looked with distrusting dark eyes at the satchel at the young patron's side. "You can do that if you like, lad," he grunted, "but I'll tell you that he likes the money of wizards even less than I do. Worthless lot, the whole of you. And when you discover that his prices are higher than my own by 'least double, you'll find my price will have gone up a copper. Your choice."

Resisting the urge to put his pale-skinned forehead down upon the stained and dusty counter he sat at, the young magician sighed. Yet another town that was distrusting of magic, that saw wizardry as a false profession or as the practice of madmen bent on overtaking the world. Just his cup of tea. Looking at the man, he frowned. "Indeed. Very inhospitable of you, considering that I'm in this town to help."

"To help? What can a wizard do to help any of us?" the barkeep grunted, his frown deepening. Some of the other customers nearby quieted their conversations, turning to regard the newest inhabitant of the inn, wishing to hear what he had to say.

"I understand that you've had some murders in this town within the last week."

Instantly the entire bar fell silent.

"And what have you to do with that?" the barkeep all but snarled, his teeth bared and clenched.

"I know who did it. And I know that the dead he's left should have risen by wraiths by now."

The inhospitable atmosphere thickened around him, smothering him like a pillow held by an assailant over his mouth. The young man shuddered as he felt the eyes of the inn's customers boring into him, feeling the hostility towards him deepen and darken like rain-laden clouds preparing to unleash their fury upon the land below them.

The barkeep's eyes narrowed. "You have no holy symbol. What can you do?"

"I'm not a cleric. I'm a necromancer."

The burst of fury and rage was deafening. Shouts of hatred, screams of fear, accusations of being in their town to turn their dead to his own will accosted him.

Bowing his head, inviting whatever would befall him for his choice of profession, the young man sighed. "I'm not here to create more undead, or to wrest control of your loved ones who've recently risen. I'm here to free their souls. I can destroy the wraiths that haunt this town. All I ask is a quiet place to sleep, some food to eat, and a torch to read by for a reasonable price."

The barkeep snarled, "You'll find nothing here. If you come to this town with any intent towards our loved ones, necromancer, you can leave. Take your business to my competitor. Maybe he'll run you through with his daggers! Bloody damned good he used to be an adventurer, so he can dispose of the likes of you!"

Shaking his head, his emerald eyes closing, the young man gathered himself and walked out the door, his stride purposeful and dignified despite the shouts and taunts that hovered at his back.

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He slid another log onto his campfire and sighed as he stared at the flickering flames that were his source of warmth.

The necromancer ha been chased from the town that so desperately needed assistance, forced to set up the same camp he'd been establishing since he'd left the comfort of the city of Waterdeep once more. His small tent, barely large enough for one or two people to lie down in and lacking the headroom to sit fully upright inside of it, rose behind him, barely held up by the poles that were driven as far into the ground as its clay consistency would allow. The campfire rested a mere five feet from that tent's entrance, far away enough to prevent it from catching the dried fabric with its licks of flame yet close enough to bestow at least a little heat to its dark interior. A stick was shoved into the ground beside that campfire, its tip over its heated tongues and baring upon it an apple he'd purchased before he'd left the town by way of its southern gate.

Located a mere fifty feet from the road that led into the now barred town, he watched dismally as traffic moved in and out of its gates, the gatekeepers dutifully manning their station and letting only those with proper authority into their town.

He was torn between resenting the town for shoving him from its interior and pitying those people inside for their irrational fear brought about by vivid and horrible tales of necromancy utilized to butcher the living and dishonor the dead.

Thus, he stayed close enough to the town to be able to race into it should they have any problem that he could assist with. He'd already gotten the gatekeepers to give their word that upon seeing any creature of undead stature within their city walls, they'd open the town's portal for him and allow his assistance.

It had taken only a few words to frighten them into rational realization that he was there to help rather than harm accompanied by a gold piece to each of the two guards to be granted their word of honor.

Therefore he sat, banished and alone, on the outskirts of town waiting for something to happen.

He didn't have long to wait.

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The magician was startled cleanly out of his meditative state, the tome of magical spells he'd been studying sliding cleanly off his knees to land with a heavy thud before the fire that was his light source in the early night when a wailing scream roared through the night. Hopping immediately to his feet, the young man grabbed the belt pouch he'd removed from his waist and hastily ran towards the town entrance, not bothering lashing it to the simple rope line he used to hold his pants up upon his nearly nonexistent hips.

The gates swung open, the gatekeepers keeping their good word. Passing a glance at the two men that manned that heavy wooden portal as he ran past, the mage felt his eyes widen.

Their faces were sheet white, their eyes huge in horror, their lips trembling with effort to keep their horror from leaking audibly into the night. One of the men had soiled his breeches. Both had swords held in limp hands, drooping hopelessly as if the two realized that their only method of defense would be all but useless should that which had terrified them return.

A short run down Neverwinter's main market street brought him to that which had so frightened the guards.

He was ambushed from a side alley as he looked wildly, running still, for his adversary.

As unnaturally cold fingers grasped his sleeve and a hand raced towards his face, fingers black as the night and wispy as a breeze billowing with sharp claws and deadly intent, the mage swiftly ducked and ripped himself free of that trapping grip.

His adversary howled at him angrily from shadow-formed jaws, its gleaming red eyes glowering with hatred for his escape, for his possession of life.

The young necromancer calmly stared at the creature before him, his feet taking him a comfortable distance from his attacker.

It was a mass of billowing blackness, darker than the night that surrounded it, its form crafted of smoky air that hovered upon the edge of solidity. A skull-like face with grinning jaws gnashed black cloudy teeth as ruby pinpoints of light that served the creature as eyes glistened through the raven-pitched evening. Clawed hands wispily clenched at the undefined waist of the monstrosity even as it slowly oozed forward, its lower body having been lost with the onset of undeath and replaced instead by shifting, swirling, smoldering black.

He had no fear. After all, this was hardly the first time he'd faced a wraith.

With all the clam and quiet of an older magi, his stature and crystal pitch of voice denoting his immense experience, the young mage scooped a pinch of dust from the ground while chanting the words of the Arcane, drawing the might of the Weave to his mind and bending it to his will.

The wraith screeched its horrible cry and charged the casting mage, its clawed hands reaching for him, intending to strike him, knowing from its recently gained experience that its very touch would drain his life from his thin body.

Flinging his acquired dust at the rushing mass, the necromancer calmly completed his chant. "Distort Undead," he finished, naming the spell with the termination of its chant.

The cone of destruction burst from his palm, the dust that he'd thrown magically twisting into a ray with the ability to distort the very forces that held undead to the world of the living.

The wraith screamed in pain and terror as its very substance was ripped to pieces.

Watching without emotion, the young man simply narrowed his eyes, awaiting the termination of his spell and its results. Hands calmly dug into his pouch in the singular second that the magical spray was in existence, reaching for a spell component to be used to craft another wave of magic should the undead creature somehow make it through this initial attack.

His experience and power proved itself in that single spell. The wraith disintegrated completely, its billowy smoky form fading.

The spirit whose gentle nature had been warped by its transformation smiled merrily at the necromancer who'd released it, its delicate features highlighted by the night's slivered moon. "Thank you," the little girl that formed whispered, her wavy hair swaying over her face as she bowed her head with her words and faded entirely from view.

A sigh leaked from the magician's lips. The girl's spirit would no longer be forced to serve and destroy upon the physical realm, but she still was trapped within the boughs of the demon his prey serviced. He'd done naught but transfer her from one prison to another.

His only relief was that her tender soul would no longer be forced by that domineering tree to kill, to create more of her own doomed kind to feed it power and blood.

Movement in the alley the wraith had burst from instantly drew his attention. Narrowing his eyes, he stared purposefully into the darkness.

Magic had been woven into his very being by the woman he knew as his Grandmother during his sixteenth year of life after his sister had been mercilessly slaughtered, endowing him with the ability to see the truth behind all beings, to see what was hidden by illusion or similar magic. It was a measure meant to protect him from the master illusionist who now was the Sakurazukamori, the mortal enemy of his own nomadic clan.

It was something that was quite an assistance when he hunted his prey and the wraiths he left in his wake.

However, it also lent itself to reveal some rather shocking surprises.

The necromancer very nearly let the screech that bubbled in his lungs pass through his lips as he spotted the long silvery form in the shadows of that alley.

Blinking a few times, staggering back a few feet as he did so, he stared.

The form, nearly forty feet in length, folded its massive wings along silvery flanks and pawed at the ground with long metallic claws. Huge jaws turned with a smile that spoke of relief. Large eyes, closed to the world, did not open to view him. Shaking its head, its serpentine neck writhing with that motion, its silvery frill swayed in the night as its tail lashed back and forth like that of a dog wagging its hindmost limb in happiness.

Swallowing roughly as the shadowy form tromped forward, barely visible to even his own mystic sight and obviously obscured from the vision of reality by magic, the young man hastily berated himself for his reaction. Drawing the strings of his pouch taunt to close it, he lashed that bag of magical spell components to his rope belt and calmed himself while awaiting that creature's emergence from the alley. After all, silver dragons were known for their kindness and their good natures, for their adherence to law and their fondness of humans as friends and companions. He had nothing to fear, so long as the dragon that approached him was no derelict of its species.

He was nearly as shocked as the dragon's human form emerged from the alley as he was when he'd initially seen the creature itself.

Standing barely an inch over five feet and appearing to be no older than fifteen, the pale-skinned boy flashed him a brilliant smile that was reflected by the dragon faintly superimposed over his frame. Bright amethyst eyes stared at him, framed by thick, dark lashes and heavy locks of shimmering black bangs whose rough cut lent to compete wildness in their fall. Running slender fingers through shaggy hair that was beginning to grow out of its close crop at the base of his skull, the demure boy bowed. "Thank you so much! I thought that thing was going to kill me."

"Eh?" the necromancer stated, his astonishment with being faced with a dragon still pounding at his brain.

"That thing. The ghost?"

"Wraith," the wizard corrected.

"Wraith, ghost, whatever. I don't know. I've never seen one before tonight. But anyway, thanks again!"

"You're welcome," he cautiously stated even as his mind whirred wildly. Why would a dragon fear something so pathetic in comparison to its own power and grandeur as a wraith?

"So, um, what can I do to thank you?" the boy asked, his bright purple eyes locked on the mage.

"Nothing. It's my duty," he quickly replied.

"Nothing at all? Are you sure? Not even get you dinner or something?"

A huff escaped his thin chest as he looked at the boy. "They won't let me into the inn."

"Oh, I don't mean at that place. I meant at my house. Mom's making spaghetti tonight!"

The mage blinked his emerald eyes once again. The dragon's house? It's mother?"

"Please?" the small boy prettily begged.

"... Sure," he replied after a moment's consideration.

His curiosity was eating him alive.

The dragon's mother? His house? This he simply had to see.

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It was nothing like he expected.

A simple house seated near the northern wall of the town, the homestead spoke of an establishment purchased by a retired adventurer or a merchant who decided to make Neverwinter his home. It was well furnished if not expensively so, warm and comfortable within its walls. A cheery fire burned in a stone-built fireplace, lighting the common meeting room with its thick rug and its couch and accompanying paired chairs. A cabinet with knick-knacks completed the ensemble. A simple kitchen with a stove and paired pantry cabinets with a dinette set and four wooden chairs, a hallway that led to two doors behind which were undoubtedly bedrooms, a door to the small back yard that housed the outhouse completed the household.

And the dragon's 'mother' was nothing more than an ordinary human.

They'd enjoyed spaghetti, just as the boy had promised, the woman more than happy to serve the magician who was responsible for saving her precious boy. After the boy had fled the room to escape the responsibilities of washing and drying the dishes and to fetch his prettiest things from his room to show his rescuer, the woman who posed as his mother smiled at her guest.

"Thank you again for helping him, Mr. Sumeragi," she humbly said, bowing her head.

"It was no problem," the necromancer calmly said. "It's my duty to dispose of them."

"Duty or not, I thank you. Kamui does as well."

"I'm well aware that he does, Magami-san."

"I'm certain you have questions?"

"Many," he truthfully replied. "He's a dragon."

"How do you know that?" she questioned, a bit surprised at his forwardness.

"I see it."

"Oh," she simply replied before she quietly sighed. "'True Seeing'. No wonder. Should have expected it from a mage powerful enough to destroy a wraith with one spell."

The necromancer just arched a brow at her, waiting for her to explain the situation surrounding herself and the 'boy.'

"I found him on my last adventure with Seiichiro Aoki, a servant of the God of Wind. We were making our way home from helping a band of adventurers kill goblins near Cromyr. We were taking a shortcut through the forests near Waterdeep's trade roads when we'd come across the site."

Taking a sip of the wine he'd been served, the mage simply nodded.

"Whoever had been there before us had slaughtered the entire lot. The mother, the father and the babies... even the eggs were cracked open so the newborns inside could be butchered. They'd ripped scales from them, pried out their eyeballs, cut pieces of their wings and torn out teeth. It was horrible."

"Sounds like a spell-component hunt," the wizard quietly muttered into his glass. "But to hunt silvers denotes that whoever performed the act was quite wicked."

Shaking her head, the Magami woman continued. "I don't know who it was or why they were there. All I know is that they'd left destruction in their wake. It was so disturbing that I couldn't even bring myself to loot from the lair, even though it looked like the people who'd attacked those dragons hadn't even bothered with it."

"So how did you find Kamui?"

A little smile lit her lips. "I insisted we go into the lair and see if anything survived. When we went in, a pile of gold shifted and squeaked. Apparently his egg had gotten covered when the parents charged out to confront their attackers."

"And the first thing he saw when he came out of the egg was you," he finished, smiling himself and shaking his head at the cuteness of the story.

"Yes," she said happily. "He bonded instantly to me and was so cute I simply couldn't' abandon him to the wild to die. But of course my parents would never approve if I brought a dragon home. We paid a mage to polymorph him into a baby human."

"The dragon agreed to it?"

"Kamui wanted to come home with his Mommy, no matter what it took. That's what he told the mage before he was changed," she said with a nod.

"And this happened fifteen years ago?"

She nodded, smiling. "Yes, it did."

Sipping his wine once more, the mage arched a brow. "Does he even know what he is anymore?"

"Doubt it. I don't mind, though. I like having my son."

Reflecting on the odd situation, the Sumeragi mage simply drank his wine in silence.

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He'd been offered the couch in the Magami house, which he happily accepted. The boy had even accompanied him out to his camp with its still burning fire to haul his belongings to his home.

However, the necromancer's rest did not go as well as he'd hoped it would.

It was near midnight when he awakened, feeling the chill of mist seeping through his bones.

After a quick glance about the establishment to ensure nothing was out of place and a hasty dressing and grabbing of spell components and sheathed blade, the necromancer made his way outside. As he shut the door behind himself quietly as to not disturb the still slumbering woman and her 'son,' his sharp ears caught the jingle of bells behind him.

Instantly relaxing, the wizard turned and bowed respectfully before even bothering to lift his gaze to view the person who'd found him. "Hinoto-hime," he politely addressed.

The Vistani elder nodded to him, the mysts of her home domain roiling about her. Blind red eyes stared in his direction, her tiny lips pursed into a small frown as the moonlight glimmered off her white skin and ivory tresses that spread out upon the mat she was seated on.

To any who would have traveled the path towards the Magami household, it would have been an odd sight. Gray mysts billowing calmly about a huge wagon, its sides open to the atmosphere through the space behind its singular inhabitant was shielded from open air by a hanging bead curtain infused with symbols of mystic power and protection. Dominating the wagon's floor was a huge, thickly woven mat sporting the image of the Evil Eye that was the Vistani clan's fame surrounded with swirling runes calling for obscurity from prying visions. That wooden vessel was lashed to two identical giant steeds, black furred and heavily built who stamped their hooves impatiently onto the cobblestone path, flung their heavy raven-pitched manes and gnashed at their bits, froth gathered at the corners of their mouths and dark eyes glaring petulantly at the road. A thin figure obscured from view by a loosely wrapped beige robe who's excess fabric was draped over its head held the reins of those magnificent beasts in a nearly skeletal hand, glowing red eyes peering without distraction at the road before the myst-enshrouded wagon.

It had no effect of awe or surprise upon the mage. It was something he'd seen many times, his position as head of the Sumeragi clan lending him towards many meetings with the Vistani prophetess who was often called upon for aid in hunting some particular creature who escaped from her demiplane's recesses.

"Subaru-san," she addressed him telepathically, her lips unmoving and mute as she bowed her head, the bells woven into her incredibly long locks that swirled in gentle circles upon the mat around her ringing delicately, "I have news."

"About the Sakurazukamori?" he instantly questioned, all formality thrown to the winds with the hope of information that would lead him to his prey.

"Such is why I address you and not your Grandmother, the twelfth head of your clan."

Waiting patiently, Subaru bowed his head.

"He has struck a bargain with a force darker than that which he serves, at the direction of the demonic sakura he treasures. He has struck a bargain intent on the destruction of all life we treasure. He has struck a bargain with the Lord of Shadows, drawing him from the Demiplane of Nightmares from which my tribe hails. He must be stopped."

Swallowing his nervousness, he felt himself pale. When Hinoto of the Vistani delivered bad news, it was always tenfold worse than she made it out to be - experience had taught him that.

"There is one here who can help you. One who is key to the banishment of the Shadow King, who can drive the Beast back into the Mysts from whence he was summoned. Take him to Threeswords. Take him swiftly."

Knowing better than to refute orders, the necromancer bit back his anger at being forced to include another in his hunt of the Sakurazukamori, to include another target into that quest. It was his personal mission that he wished to adhere to, to find his prey and fulfill the wish he'd garnered in his heart for the last nine years, not a mission thrown in his face by the Princess of the powerful Vistani tribe involving forces of darkness and the fate of the world. "Who is this person?"

"One who is unknown to himself. One who will need your protection," she softly whispered even as her wagon began to clatter away, the horses that pulled it whinnying heavily as the mysts encompassed it.

Once she faded into the mysts that draw all to the demiplane her tribe hailed from, the necromancer scowled.

A new mission had been set upon him.

A mission he didn't care about had been forced into his hands.

And of all things, it was forcing him to accept what he loathed, what he feared, what he avoided with a passion.

He was going to have to have help.

_tbc..._


	3. Chapter II

Disclaimer: I in no way own X or AD&D. Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

The Sumeragi mage lifted his emerald gaze to watch the puffy clouds that rolled overhead on a high-riding luke-warm breeze that smelled of drying leaves and dying flowers, hinting that autumn's days were not far removed. Blinking as those white flurries of soft coloration slowly slid across the brilliant blue that touched from horizon to horizon, leaping from mountain to plain, he let a tired yet satisfied sigh leak from his lips. The night's chase had ended with him battling a powerful wraith in a field just to the east of Neverwinter's walls, fighting desperately to free that indentured spirit from its servitude to the demonic sakura serviced by the Sakurazukamori. It had taken more magical might than the necromancer had originally intended to utilize, draining his pouch almost completely of its stock of magical spell components and nearly wiping his mind clean of incantations.

That night as his final spell was set into motion and the black cloud of the wraith's form slowly faded away like smoke carried by a gust of wind, the undead creature's true spiritual form had answered the young mage's question - he, a simple farmer in peasants clothing, barefooted and baring naught that would serve him in defending himself save the ghostly shades of a garden spade, was indeed the first wraith created in the town of Neverwinter, the one responsible for nearly half of the numbers that had already been destroyed, and he was the last unliving monster that plagued the town.

As the man's thick form and his bearded smiling face faded from view, his brown eyes glimmering with happiness and thanks while he bowed in gratitude, the mage took a seat in the lush grass of that battlefield. Raising his eyes to the horizon, he watched it calmly and awaited the coming of dawn.

He'd been in Neverwinter for a month. He'd eliminated twelve wraiths.

He'd enjoyed more dinners of spaghetti than he'd known he could stand, laughing to himself as he noted Magami Toru's creativity and her innovative solutions to getting the boy she claimed as her son to eat his vegetables.

Before the Magami household, Subaru Sumeragi would never have assumed that cucumber, celery, zucchini and broccoli could become a part of spaghetti and not ruin its flavor entirely.

While the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, its brilliant rays preceding its globular form over the far off hills that lay to the east, the wizard watched the lazy clouds drift overhead, taking his time to relax and gather his strength.

Now that the disaster left by the one he hunted in Neverwinter had been cleared, he had to prepare to continue his hunt. The Sakurazukamori had undoubtedly been on the move for the entire time he'd been sequestered to the small city and clearing it of its undead plague, utilizing his mystical dagger to offer sacrifice to his godhead and snagging more souls in the dire trap that was the sakura's twisted boughs and terrible power to twist those gentle spirits into bloodthirsty wraiths bent entirely towards destruction, lusting endlessly for the touch of life once more and overflowing with putrid hatred of all who still possessed that precious gift. There would be a month's worth of travel to catch up on, a month's worth of victims to free from the physical realm and send to their prison in the sakura's branches, a month's worth of hunting to dedicate himself to. And the Sakurazukamori was not one to make such a hunt easy.

Laying back in the grass, its blades dry and bent from being trampled during the battle that had waged in ernst but an hour ago, he watched the clouds, his gaze passing idly past a flock of birds that swiftly flew from the west towards the southeast.

He had a hunt to resume.

And he had a mission to begin.

Frowning as he recalled his meeting with the head of the mystic Vistani of Ravenloft one month precluding that morning, he closed his eyes and let his thick black lashes press to pale cheeks, shrouding his eyes in comforting blackness barely touched with the glaring light of the sun of summer's end that managed to seep through the thin flesh of his eyelids.

She'd told him that the Sakurazukamori, his most dire enemy and his prey for nine years, had contracted the services of the Lord of Shadows who hailed from the Vistani's home realm, the Demiplane of Nightmares itself. That he'd drawn a bargain with this force of evil in a willful attempt to destroy all life that flourished through the Realms he as the head of the Sumeragi clan was tasked to protect.

She'd told him that he'd need to take a person from the city he was currently in, one unknown to himself, to the town called Threeswords.

Subaru let his lips twist into a scowl as he squinted his eyes more tightly shut to prevent the intrusive sunlight from seeping between his eyelids.

During his time in Neverwinter, he'd not had much of an opportunity to know any other than the residents of the household he was residing in at that time. The other inhabitants of that city, though they slowly lost that initial loathing that had been so evident when he'd first arrived, never came to fully trust him. His profession as a necromancer overrode all that he did to rescue them from their situation, drawing all the seemingly instinctual fear the very name of that institute garnered. People wouldn't acknowledge that he was, as a commander of life and death, there to help them by putting the souls of their loved ones to rest. They remained leery, watching his every movement, critiquing all he did and ensuring he made no effort to take command of those spirits he was actively releasing from their bonds to the physical realm and turn them to his own will.

Not once did he blame them for their inhibitions. It simply sickened him that their fear, their natural hatred, was deserved due to the actions of others who practiced his art, utilizing the darker aspects of the school he practiced for ill towards humanity.

His options concerning who it was that would accompany him were surprisingly low. As he reflected on those few individuals he'd come to know a bit more personally than simply being able to acknowledge them as a native or a permanent inhabitant of Neverwinter, he saw his array of possibilities dwindle to near nonexistence.

The only one he knew in this entire city that had no true knowledge of himself, the only one he suspected the Vistani prophetess was speaking of, was the young silver dragon who believed himself to be an ordinary fifteen year old boy.

Kamui.

Subaru allowed a scowl to turn his lips, frowning miserably at the picturesque sky above him. Of all persons, that was the one he had no desire to take with him on any venture. The boy had no adventuring experience, having lived in the city he was inhabiting at the time for the entirety of his human life. His worldly experience consisted of knowledge of which vendors were the most honest in the bazaar, of which trees were the easiest to climb, of which barkeeps would secretly serve him alcohol despite Neverwinter's stringent laws concerning such. He had never touched a sword before he'd lifted Subaru's own katana in curiosity, unsheathing it and staring with wide eyes at the blade, amazed that such a work of craftsmanship had actually taken lives before. He had no knowledge of magical spells, and indeed had no ability to instigate those spell effects that he, as a silver dragon, should have natural inclination towards creating. He lacked the grace and agility of the professional rogue, making him a liability and a hindrance rather than an aid in any situation that would require a delicate touch and quick reactions; he was a bumbling adolescent who's feet were too big and who's frame was still absurdly gangly. He'd never hunted, never gathered food in the wilderness, never looked to the heavens to figure out weather patterns that would affect his daily activities. He had lived the ordinary life of a Neverwinter child, going to school to learn how to read and right basic numerals and letters, learning the teachings of the Gods and their differing viewpoints and portfolios, learning what all commoners believe to be the abilities of magicians, learning simple economics and trading techniques, studying heraldry and etiquette for day-to-day life. He'd played in the streets with other children his age, gone to the local temples to pray for good fortune, gone shopping for his mother at the marketplace, and had once gotten to ride a horse - the highlight of his young life.

The boy would be an incredible burden on the Sumeragi mage's already terrible condition.

It wasn't that which deterred him from wanting to have the boy accompany him, though. His true concern was that the boy would come to harm on the road.

He was beginning, after a month of living in his presence, to rather like him.

The young necromancer had always had a fondness for children. The innocence of youth, the bright sparkle of eyes viewing the world with interest, the purity of emotional display and depth of truthfulness made the younger generations of the world more appealing to him than adults. Adults, through lessons taught by the harsh realities of life, were capable of falsehoods and lies, of misdirecting and deceit. Honesty was a trait that was punished. Emotions were a weakness to overcome, making a person vulnerable and liable to be hurt.

He himself through the trials of life had come to early maturity, learning that emotion was a fault rather than a strength. He'd learned early on that love was the most horrible emotion a person could hold in his heart, capable of shattering him completely. He'd learned that important lesson through direct experience.

He'd learned that tears earn ridicule, that a smile is almost always read as false, that kindness leads one to be taken advantage of, that assisting others tends to bring harm rather than good to one's shoulders. He'd learned that truth derives hatred. He'd learned to live a constant lie and take whatever happiness he could from it.

Given his own situation, realizing that the wisdom of age had brought it into being and that his happiness had fled with it, he loved and appreciated the innocence of youth. It was a quality of every child he met that he always cursed, knowing that it would be tarnished and stained as life progressed, yet always praised, longing for the return of that beautiful status to himself and merrily acknowledging jealousy of.

Kamui still had that quality. He was still bright eyed about the world, not seeing the faults that flooded its folds, not seeing the wretchedness of humanity. He was still sheltered, safe from the waves of racism, of bias, of bigotry and hate that buried those who'd been ravished by life's flow.

Subaru wanted, more than anything, to preserve that quality in the interesting young boy he found a daily source of amusement. However, he realized he could not direct the flow of fate. He could not fight against the will of the Vistani leader who'd tasked him.

If he did, he'd be condemning those who were at risk from the threat she'd made him aware of. He'd be sentencing uncounted hordes to their deaths.

Slowly rising from his bed upon the grass, the young mage dusted his pants off with glove-encased hands.

His task in this city had been completed.

It was time to move on.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Subaru calmly rolled the long parchment scroll and eased it into its case, attempting desperately to ignore the roaring argument that was pouring through the thin walls of the room he had been granted use of within the confines of the Magami household. Kamui and his mother were battling one another verbally.

The Sumeragi mage had no desire to exit the room with their small war raging, especially not when he'd been the direct cause of it.

When he'd returned from his encounter in the field and calmly told Toru and Kamui that his task in the city of Neverwinter had been completed and that the wraiths were no more, they'd both shown relief. Toru had asked him how long he intended to stay. Kamui had voiced that he was welcome to remain until he absolutely, without a doubt needed to go.

It had been slightly uplifting to hear the boy proclaim that. It wasn't very often that Subaru had people practically begging him to stay in one place. More often than not it was during those times when he could provide assistance but the governing forces in charge of the town refused to accept his aid, leaving the townspeople to throw themselves upon his more than adequate mercy and convince him to do his work for payment in the form of food and shelter. He'd never had anyone offer an invitation for him to relax and remain after a job's completion.

He'd told the pair that he'd need a week to gather his supplies that he'd need for his next journey and to plot out his travel route.

Kamui had then asked where he intended to go, his amethyst eyes sad and dull after listening to the necromancer proclaim that he was indeed planning on leaving.

When Subaru had told them that he'd been tasked to go to Threeswords by a prophetess, Toru had cringed. Apparently rumors flooding the city's inns these days portrayed the town that lay nearly four months travel as the raven flies to the south east as being a ransacked death hole, filled with undead and reeking of decay, its buildings toppled and a horrible dark castle erected in its center.

Kamui begged him to stay. When Subaru simply bowed his head and told them that he could not refuse the will of the Princess who directed his actions lest something worse arise, the boy questioned her motives.

Hinoto's directions had never lead the Sumeragi clan array before. Indeed, with the power of her foresight she was able to advert horrible futures with a simple placement of one or more persons, with a basic redirection of events that would lead to a different termination. Subaru never doubted her validity, especially not after seeing it himself.

He'd only denied her will once.

His twin had died for it.

Having refused to turn his heart from the path it was following and relinquish his growing appreciation and love for Sakurazuka Seishiro, he'd allowed the future she'd foreseen to play itself into reality, unchanged and unaltered despite his belief that he through his power, abilities and supposed hold on the Sakurazukamori would be able to prevent the tragedies she'd predicted while retaining his emotional ties. He'd been proven wrong at the end of that year, left with his sister's body and the grim realization that she had been correct, that his twin's death was entirely upon his own head.

He'd vowed to never deny the Vistani leader's wishes nor doubt the validity of her dreams again.

Kamui was obviously not satisfied with his simple proclamation that he would not refuse the Princess' will and demanded an explanation which Subaru had refused to give, simply telling him that such an explanation involved personal affairs he would rather not reminisce about at the moment. Toru had assisted him by directing Kamui's attention away from his inquisition as to why he had to leave to whether or not there was anything they could do to assist him before he began his journey.

The Sumeragi mage had chosen that moment to reveal the remainder of Hinoto's wishes - that he go, and that he be accompanied by Kamui.

Kamui, the only person in the entire city of Neverwinter that he had found and could think of who fit the Princess' description of having no idea of his true self.

Toru had exploded at that.

Kamui's eyes had practically glowed with excitement.

Subaru had run off to his room to go pack with a simple statement of his intentions when mother and son had turned on one another and started discussing whether or not he should be allowed to go.

Toru had been reaming her boy for the last hour about his inexperience, Subaru's apparent madness for wishing to go dancing into the very fires of Hell that Threeswords had apparently become in accordance to the rumors that were flying about their home city, and his scholastic responsibilities. Kamui had been firing right back with gripes about his need for worldly experience and how he would never attain such locked away in a city, Toru's hypocrisy considering that she herself had been an adventurer (to which she'd replied that it was because of that experience that she didn't want him leaving until he was much older and at least could handle a weapon), his accompanying the necromancer assuring that he would be well protected, his desire to help out not only Subaru but whatever people needed help in 'that place he's going.'

Subaru contented himself with folding his meager collection of clothing and rolling his scrolls for storage while they verbally duked it out between them.

By the time he was packed, Kamui was knocking on his door, merrily asking whether or not he could come in. Subaru opened the door.

"I can go!" the boy brightly proclaimed, his eyes huge with happiness and a smile stretching without control across his face.

Nodding once, the necromancer let his lips curl into the slightest hint of a smile, encouraged by the boy's own merry expression. "Very well. I'll help you pack."

"Alright! This is going to be so cool," he chattered aimlessly as they walked down the short hallway to the door to Kamui's chambers.

Subaru narrowly avoided falling flat on his face as he entered the room and promptly tripped over a pile of clothes that littered the floor.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

It had taken nearly three hours.

Three hours to pack the boy's belongings and convince him that he would not need and indeed could not carry everything he wanted to bring along.

First he'd wanted to pack everything in his room, insisting that it wouldn't be that much. Kamui's eyes had nearly rolled out of his head when Subaru sighed and told him that he would be carrying everything he intended to bring upon his back and in his arms, as many of the roads he intended to travel were simply too hazardous for horseback riding.

After lamenting about the fact that he wouldn't get to ride a horse, the young boy had taken another glance about his room and frowned. Turning towards Subaru, he'd asked how much the mage had packed.

Kamui's screech of "WHAT? How can you live with only that!" had all but roared through the house after the necromancer had revealed that he had but one backpack, his book satchel, his scroll case and two belt pouches, one for spell components and the other for coins.

It was then that Subaru decided to sit down upon Kamui's bed and itemize exactly what he'd need, telling him to bring the items he told him to gather and set them upon the bed. He'd then help the boy fold his belongings and pack them efficiently.

Two pairs of breeches, two rough tunics, one pair of soft boots, a good number of socks and underwear, a blanket and a hat later, they began searching the house for usable items for him to bring. They managed to gather some torches, a flint rock, a well crafted knife that would serve as a dagger, a whetstone and Kamui's pup tent from his days of camping in the back yard. Toru had presented her boy with a sack of rations and a trio of filled water skins along with a well worn backpack who's servitude to her had begun with her first adventure. She also gifted him with an exquisite watch glass, a pack of needles and a spool of thread, paper and a writing kit with quill and ink for him to write home with, and a heavy sack with a couple good handfuls of silver and gold coins in its confines.

The rest of the necessities for travel were left to Subaru. He was always prepared for the journey, and would easily be able to compensate for having another mouth to feed and another body to provide for.

The biggest hurdle in getting Kamui prepared to leave had been convincing him that he truly didn't need to bring what Subaru had subconsciously dubbed to be his horde.

A rather large, sprawling pile of fairly useless junk was Kamui's pride and joy, its contents ranging from surprisingly well-conditioned copper pieces from various city mints that he'd received as change or found laying in the road to shirt buttons that were shiny. He had a few jewels, obviously from jewelry who's prongs were so worn as to allow the release of their precious contents, and some jewelry that he'd found laying around the house and had refused to return to Toru because 'it was his and it was in his pile of stuff because he found it so there.' He had scraps of cloth with shiny embroidery in it, shards of a broken glass which Toru had tried on multiple occasions to throw away, a trumpet who's horn was dented that he'd found in an alley and a collection of rocks that sparkled when the sunlight hit them.

Subaru had managed to convince him that leaving his precious collection in the security of his home would be his best move, refraining from telling him that dragons don't regularly pack up their hordes and take them with them when they travel for adventure or for food.

Begrudgingly Kamui left his pile sitting in his room, firmly directing his mother not to move anything from it and to guard it as she would guard the house itself - with her life.

All said and done, three hours passed before Subaru could return to his room and continue packing his materials, stowing his precious spell components carefully and methodically as Kamui ran amuck in the town to say goodbye to everyone and Toru went about her business.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Subaru could feel his eye twitching and silently prayed to Kelemvor, the God he revered, that it wasn't making itself visible to the people he was being confronted with.

This was not what he wanted.

Kamui had returned from his sojourn into town to bid farewell to his friends with his best buddy in tow - a boy who had nary two years on the young silver dragon turned human by the name of Arisugawa Sorata. Sorata, or 'Sora' as he insisted he be called, was an apprentice to the town magician, learning the art of 'blowing shit up' as he so astutely put it. And, as he'd been told that Kamui was going on a grand venture to Threeswords and was likely to find 'enemies and monsters and treasure and whole bunches of other nifty stuff' on the way, he'd decided that his best friend shouldn't have to travel alone.

Subaru had grunted that he'd be accompanying the boy. Sorata had smiled brightly and replied right back that he meant 'without someone who hasn't been there for most've his life.'

Subaru had told him no. Sorata had told him that he'd follow them anyway.

Subaru had told him that he'd lose him. Sorata had told him that he knew Locate Object and wasn't afraid to use it.

Subaru had told him that he'd rip his still-energized soul from his still-living body and was perfectly capable of doing it as he was quite a proficient necromancer. Sorata had grinned and told him that it'd be cool and then he could haunt him until he died. When Subaru countered that he was more than capable of banishing spirits, Sorata had laughed that he'd convince his Goddess to let him come back.

Then Kamui turned his gaze to Subaru. "Would you really kill him?" he'd whispered softly, his voice mournful and quiet, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears as his veil of heroism he'd drawn about the Sumeragi mage began to lift and reveal him for the crass adult he might very well be.

Subaru melted.

He'd grudgingly agreed to let Sorata follow, provided he could keep up.

Sorata had instantly cheered and offered his hand, which Subaru had stared at blankly. Clutching empty air, the Arisugawa boy had simply smirked and shrugged, proclaiming that being antisocial was no way to drive him away and his tenacity would continue until he managed to break the mage.

Then he and Kamui began talking excitedly about what they would do on this adventure, what they would learn, where they would go, what they could encounter and every aspect of the task of journeying across the Faerun that their young, inexperienced minds could derive.

It wasn't long until Sorata was pestering the necromancer to look at his spell book and see if there was anything he could possibly transpose into his own, as he was naught but an apprentice and had only Magic Missile, Lightning Bolt, Fireball, Color Spray, Detect Magic, Read Magic, Knock, Cantrip and Alarm in his own collection of magical instructions.

Subaru had to fight his urges to smack the overly exuberant young mage hopeful with his tome. Instead he granted Sorata a blank stare before going back to pouring over his maps and deciding which roads he would take.

While the necromancer held his head and rubbed his temples while staring at the map, Kamui hurried off with Sorata to speak with his mother concerning what his friend should bring on their adventure, leaving their older leader alone to think in peace.

Toru entered the room nearly two hours after the adolescent pair had left as he was lightly tracing over an abandoned trade route he and very few others knew of, drawing it into existence upon the map which did not feature it for lack of travel. Immediately following her were two individuals, both with backpacks and heavily laden pouches. One, a tall and broad shouldered man with light brown hair and chocolate eyes that glimmered merrily behind glasses, was dressed in soft robes that were dyed with swirling patterns of white, light gray and blue with a large medallion dangling upon his chest depicting the holy symbol of the Goddess of Wind, obviously revealing him to be a cleric. The other was a woman of nearly Subaru's height dressed in rough commoner's clothing covered by heavy, well-used partial field plate consisting of a breastplate designed for her ample chest, a set of greaves and vanguards, gauntlets and a helm sporting a dark red tail of horsehair which she held under her arm. Upon her hip was strapped a scabbard containing a longsword with an intricately designed pommel designed to reflect the shape of a lick of flame and done in ruby.

Lifting his eyes from his map, he glanced over the two new persons. His lips turned with a slight frown. "Yes, Magami-san?" he quietly inquired.

Smiling, she nodded. "There's one small hitch to your abduction of my son, Mr. Sumeragi."

"He comes of his own will, Magami-san."

"However, he goes with my permission, and leaves only if my conditions are met."

"And your conditions are?"

"That he be accompanied by these people."

"And they are?"

She smiled brightly. "Seiichiro Aoki, the priest who was accompanying me when I found Kamui. And this is Karen Kasumi, his current adventuring companion."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Seiichiro said with a smile and a curt bow.

"Don't worry at all about little Kamui," Karen added with a grin as she also bent at the waist in greeting. "We'll help you protect him. We know it's a big burden to have him and his friend Sorata around needing you for everything, so we'll do what we can to take some of that weight off your shoulders."

"Some time during this venture, though, you're going to have to tell us why you're taking Kamui to Threeswords of all places. Really, a better adventure for a beginner like him would be a sojourn to Ormath! Wouldn't you agree, Karen?" Seiichiro chirped.

"Yes I would, Seiichiro!" she heartily agreed. "Threeswords. Isn't that where-"

The necromancer ceased to pay attention to their conversation as they started speaking to one another about their inevitable destination upon the journey Magami Toru had drafted them to involve themselves with.

He was startled back into reality as they turned as one to him.

"So, when are we all leaving?" they asked in unison.

Subaru stared at them.

He was loath to have just one companion. Now he was being burdened with an entire party.

His eye twitched.

_tbc..._


	4. Chapter III

Disclaimer: I in no way own X or AD&D. Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

He hefted the heavy pack, setting one strap over a thin shoulder that already sagged with the weight of the world resting upon it.

Just a few days ago, Subaru had rejoined with the road that was his home and dearest friend, reuniting boot and dust in their redundant union formed by year and mile compiled. Once more his backpack contained every vestige of his life, every item necessary for his continued survival, every precious thing used to grant him whatever comforts could be gained upon his unending journey. His pack, laden with whetstone and torches and flint and steel, with wineskin and carefully wrapped rations and bags of trail mix, with a spare pair of breeches and a clean tunic and soft boots purposefully stuffed under everything else, with his rolled blanket tethered to its top, was his bedroom, his wardrobe, his dining room made portable. It rather reminded him of traveling with his family.

He truly missed home at times.

It was rare for him to think of those he'd abandoned in his earnest attempt to chase the man who'd slain his sister and destroyed what remained of his fragile soul. HE tended to stay away from memories that interrupted his quest, which took his focus from that horrible, sweetly smiling slaughtering machine driven by the sakura tree that dominated his home isle's center. Thinking of home made him regret, made him fear, made him more sad and miserable than the recollections of awakening with his dead sister by his side and her murderer smiling cheerfully at him as he laid nearly frozen in the snow normally maintained him.

He missed his grandmother. She who had nurtured and loved both him and his twin after their parents' deaths, their mother having perished at their birth and her husband having fallen to a horde of roving undead just a year later. She who maintained his secrets with her carefully woven spells, who strove desperately to keep even their own clan unaware of his true nature to the best of her abilities. She who pushed for his leadership, who maintained faith and trust in his abilities, who had no doubts when it came to his dedication for finding the man who had decimated one of their numbers as was his duty as the head of his clan.

He even missed some of the other persons he'd grown close to in his clan, few in numbers as they were. Most of the nomadic Sumeragi had all but exiled him from their numbers, refusing to recognize him as the leader he was assigned to be. Most had thrown him forcefully from their sights, declining to speak to him, to listen to him, to have any contact with him. But there were exceptions, a few priceless individuals who maintained him as a friend, a clansman, a kindred soul working for the decimation of all things unnatural and wicked that plagued the Faerun for the time the Sumeragi were to make this Crystal Sphere their home. It was those understanding people he cherished and missed, longing to see them again before his ultimate termination.

He missed his isle home with its warmth and its gentle humidity, its snow in the winters in the highest of reaches which a curious child could reach in but a day's hike and satiate their desire to encounter with a night's worth of safe camping in those white fields. He missed the waves of summer flowers that sprawled as far as the eye could see, the white glistening sand that made up bright beaches touched by crystalline water that lapped in calm waves, the tall trees that were the skyscraping cathedrals of the natural world. He missed the majestic brown mountains, in summer bare upon their heads and capped with white in the winter, who held back the glacial northern ice which threatened at all times to crush the forested plains but was a vital source of marvelously pure water during the summer's heated days. He missed the secret grove within those mountainous ranges, held but a ridge away from that frozen waste the glacier created that was the Sumeragi summer home due to its thick mountainside plumage and fresh flowing water, with its marvelous sakura with their pink petals.

He missed those trees and their spring bloom that signified the return of life to the deceased mountains. He missed even that horrible testimony to death that ruled supreme in the midst of that grove, its rosy blossoms flourishing nearly year round, its façade that of a soft off-color cloud floating in an infinite white sky during the most harsh of winter months while the grove about it sang of lifelessness and misery.

It was the tree that his prey served. That tree that bound them together, inseparable until the death of one or the other, or the impossible destruction of that ancient plant turned prison.

As he stared down the road he was set on traveling, he let a calm and serene sigh meet his lips. This was now his home, having come to replace the isle paradise he had originally claimed as such with time. This dusty road, whether leading along the Sword Coast or into the sprawl of Cromyr, whether snaking along the Dragon Sea or skittering through the fields of the Shining Plains, was his residence. It was here that he now felt most comfortable, calling its dirt his floor, its sky his ceiling, its trees his walls, its boulders his family.

He barely stopped himself from setting foot on that road, from leaving the clearing in the tall green grasses that had served as his campsite.

All that kept him in the area was the clamoring of the small impromptu party that had organized itself around him and his quest as they attempted to break down the remainder of their camp.

It was a clamor with which Subaru was entirely unfamiliar, his journey having been a practice in loneliness for the last nine years he'd attended to it. Never before had he thought to entertain maintaining companions with him upon his desolate quest, pondering the usefulness of such as he traveled without company.

Companions were persons one would come to rely on, persons one would depend on for extra strength and altered positions on strategy in combative or difficult situations. Such dependency was anathema to him. He viewed it as a hindrance towards the development of the individual, instead encouraging the growth of social interaction - a skill he could foresee no use for in his quest. His was a duty of man against man, of individual against individual, with no room for other persons to interrupt or interfere.

It wasn't that Subaru abhorred the presence of other people. It was simply that he saw them as hindering the expansion of his own latent power, of his own skill, instead encouraging him to depend upon others. He wanted to depend on no one for his goals. He knew that, when the time came for him to finish what the servant of the sakura had started so many years ago, that it would be him against the Sakurazukamori. No one else would be allowed to interfere. Anyone who dared would likely be slaughtered.

In his vain attempt to develop his own person, he'd actively avoided associating himself with adventuring parties, choosing instead to face the road's dangers alone. Now, however, the Vistani dream seer was encouraging such odd behavior.

Why, he could not begin to fathom. His quest was to target the murderer of his twin. His quest was being twisted and distorted to take care of another threat to the Realms without deviating entirely from its original path.

His prey had caused the trouble he was being sent to remedy. Such was the only justification the young Sumeragi necromancer could see in Hinoto's insistence that he be involved in her impromptu adventure.

But why she had insisted that he take Kamui was still far above and beyond him. A boy without skill, without experience, without knowledge of the vast and great secret he held within himself would be of no use upon the road. A boy that would scoff at the very real fact that he was, indeed, a polymorphed silver dragon could be of no assistance. He'd be exactly what Subaru had intended to avoid all of these years - a hindrance, a potential casualty.

The fact that Kamui had to come along upon his journey by relative order of the powerful prophetess upset Subaru. That he came with a mandated adventuring party made it worse.

Subaru stared at the road as he considered each of his new companions, pondering just how much they would either enhance or inhibit his own personal development. Kamui could almost be justified as an aid in his quest to become strong enough to be a worthy opponent for the vain savant of the sakura, as his relative helplessness would require additional effort and attention on the part of the necromancer. Like a damsel in distress, the boy could prove a motivator or perhaps a means to see more action. The Sumeragi had no doubt that, reflective of the boy's inexperience, he'd be ambushed much more often than he'd been in the past years while maintaining the violet-eyed youth in his company.

Sorata was a wildcard Subaru was wary of. The boy had seen the road before - granted, it had been for naught but a jaunt to the City of Splendors to the south, accompanying his master on a trip for rare spell components and traveling with a well-armed caravan. However, that touch of experience made him cocky and self-sure about his lacking, apprentice-leveled abilities. Subaru couldn't grasp his confident mindset, owing to his early exposure to the harsh realities held by the world regarding his own capabilities and

those of his enemies - when a person begins their monster-slaying career as a necessity driven by clan honor and demand while still a prepubescent youth, a person grows wise quickly or dies foolishly believing himself more powerful than he truly is. Whereas the experienced wizard saw himself as yet incompetent and unworthy to stand up to his most hated foe, the chocolate-eyed youth with his wide smile and quick laugh saw himself as naught but a few steps below the master of wizardry who'd raised him as his own upon finding him upon his cottage's steps as a babe. Sorata had a decent working knowledge of the monstrous population of the continent and of local city politics due to his continuous exposure to his master's vast publications library, but Subaru wondered how he'd react when he found his book smarts wouldn't serve him as well as he apparently thought they would when they happened upon the wilder reaches of the Faerun.

Seiichiro Aoki was one companion that Subaru found himself twisted over end about as far as his opinion of the man was concerned; he was both happy and disgruntled that the priest of the Wind Goddess Akadi had decided that it was his duty to accompany the boy he'd claimed as his nephew years ago upon his first quest. A priest, no matter which deity they proclaimed, was always a handy

addition upon the road. Free healing was a luxury Subaru wasn't about to turn his nose up towards, however he also saw it as a luxury he would be better off not having. It would save him considerably so far as the pocketbook was concerned - it could cost him dearly so far as his dependency upon his own skills was regarded. Relying upon a healer, upon a priest's protective magic and worthwhile combative abilities, were traits Subaru didn't wish to adopt. He was fearful of losing his own focus, coming to depend upon a priest being at his side, weakening him for his confrontation with his prey.

Kasumi Karen, for like reasons, wasn't well received in the Sumeragi mage's mind. While not so senior at adventuring as Seiichiro who was Kamui's founder upon his hatching, she was a force to be reckoned with owing to her reckless inclusion of herself upon any battle she had seen fit to throw herself towards during her time upon the road. She was a capable sword for hire, nearly as capable as she'd been as a lady of pleasure for sale in the years she'd lived before she'd met Akadi's savant, Aoki-san, and picked up a sword to make herself a worthy companion for him - her discovery of his marriage hadn't stopped her, but had rather reinforced her resolution as she appointed herself as his shield so he'd safely return to his wife and daughter at the end of his journeys (which apparently, so far as Subaru was able to discern, was a decision that rather upset the priest - he didn't want anyone offering to sacrifice themselves for him). That dedication frightened the Sumeragi; he recognized her as a fighter who'd rush to his side to assist him rather than allow him to take his beatings in battle to teach and strengthen him.

A screech erupted behind him as a tent collapsed, burying two inexperienced youths under its fabric and drawing the mage completely out of his mental evaluation of his impromptu party. Rolling his eyes, he cast a cold glare behind him to view what was occurring. "What are you doing?" he sourly grunted.

The collapsed tent writhed as a creature with its own life, muffled squeaks and chirped yelps coming from under its fabric skin. After flailing for many a moment, a ruffled-haired head emerged from under one of its flaps, brown eyes glittering and a cock-eyed smile upon long, thin lips. "Eh, just trying to break it down!" Sorata said with a chuckle.

Across the clearing, Seiichiro chortled and shook his head even as Karen laughed behind a slender hand.

Subaru turned his gaze to the heavens, a sigh of dismay leaking from his lips.

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It had taken hours to pack camp. The necromancer was still astonished at how very long it took the party to roll tents and sleeping blankets and reorganize their rations in their packs. More than once he'd nearly walked off down the long road towards the sparkling destination he sought to reach before nightfall without his party, his inherent impatience close to bettering him. Every time he took a step though he carefully reined himself in, berating himself for his anxious desire to continue his quest and his sour attitude towards that gathering that accompanied him driven by the odd quality of the Vistani prophetess' orders, and stopped his journey.

When they'd finally gotten the last of the youngest members of the party's equipment properly stowed, the conglomeration of unlikely companions continued their southbound journey. They were nearly late in catching the caravan Subaru had intended to travel with, swinging into the vicinity of the long train of horses and cars with their accompanying soldiers in mismatched armor denoting their 'for-hire' status rather than a force established by a lordship or guild both on horseback and on foot upon its tail end as the cobblestone path the merchants followed intersected with the dirt road followed by the small adventuring party.

It had taken a lot of quick words, swiftly made promises and a handful of silver to buy the gathering a place in the caravan's already hefty compliment of guards, purchasing safety, warmth, carts to ride in when weariness overtook the feet and, most importantly, free food for the remainder of their trip.

Subaru inwardly squawked at the price it took to purchase passage for them all. He'd been accustomed to the measly two or three copper and small display of magical power it took to get him inundated with a caravan.

He woefully looked at his small, steadily depleting supply of coins within his pouch and let a sorrowful sigh leak past his lips.

"Neh, what's wrong Subaru?" a bright voice erupted next to him, startling him out of his reverie and drawing his attention. "You look down."

Gaze settling upon the amethyst-eyed boy that trod wearily at his side, the mage let a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. "It's nothing. Just reflecting on the fact that traveling with a party is much more expensive than traveling by oneself."

"Oh," Kamui said, blinking once. "What do you mean?"

Refusing to let himself outwardly guffaw at the boy's lacking experience with everyday matters of the outside world, Subaru simply let his eyes close instead, his experienced gait keeping him walking in a straight line with even, steady steps. "When I travel alone, it takes me only a couple of copper pieces and a few magic tricks to win my way into a crowded caravan with paid meals and a place by the fire to sleep. Traveling with a large party boosted the price asked nearly ten-fold due to the extra expense of food and the extra liability incurred by accepting a gathering of people who's prowess on the road is unconfirmed."

"Prowess on the road?"

"Our abilities. Kamui, you don't have any viable weapons on your person. Your knife is of high enough quality to be utilized as a dagger in close-quarters combat, but usually such a weapon is one of last resort and not commonly used by persons who have familiarity with the road. You can't be seen as an asset to this caravan if we come under attack. Sorata is too young to be a mage of much experience in the eyes of the caravan leaders. Myself? I've traveled with this group before, so they know what I'm capable of - it's on my good word that they've taken us in, even though they're

already strapped for food and over-manned as it is. They recognize Aoki-san as a cleric thanks to his holy symbol and robes, and Kasumi-san verily radiates proficiency with that sword and that armor of hers, plus they've been roaming these roads for quite some time so their contribution in the event of an attack aren't so heavily questioned."

"So it's me...?"

"You and Sorata," Subaru quietly said with a nod. "Don't let it get you down, Kamui. It's always like this - until you're a known in the area as a proficient adventurer, you always run into questions and hard times."

"Oh," the boy grumped, disillusioned.

Their conversation was interrupted as a tall black gelding trotted to their flank, coming to a walk with a prancing hop and a few snorts of frustration with being forced to come to such a slow pace by his rider.

Subaru looked up, then nodded in greeting. "Matthew-san. Didn't expect to see you traveling with Elmack-san's caravan."

The gelding's rider, a stately man in a full suit of chain-link armor with a matching cap, heavy gauntlets with tall armored boots and a hefty mace dangling within a beaten leather hanger hanging from a loose leather belt strapped about his waist, smiled a broad grin that lifted the corners of his strawberry-colored moustache and showed even white teeth at the pair that walked at his side. Dark blue eyes sparkling in the early afternoon sunlight, he laughed with a deep rolling voice that sang majestically before bowing his head and lifting his hand to his brow in kind salutations in lieu of tipping a cap. "Greeting to you as well, Subaru. It's been quite some time since our paths last crossed!"

"Two years," the necromancer confirmed with a nod. "And still you roam these roads? I thought you'd have retired by now."

A bark of a snort escaped the man's nostrils. "Retired? With all that

echoes from the East? A man with a penchant for justice would hardly retire at such dire times."

Instantly one black brow arched with interest over an emerald eye. "You know about Threeswords?"

"That name is a dark word to mention these days, young friend," the soldier said, his voice somber and quiet.

"Why?" Kamui instantly burst, his voice bright with nervous energy. "That's where we're-"

"Taking interest," Subaru cleanly interrupted. "I've heard rumors, but have no eyewitness reports as to what's going on. After I accompany this group to Waterdeep, I was thinking about checking it out personally."

Matthew nearly reeled, his eyes wide as he stared at the mage walking at his horse's side. "Are you crazy, boy? Accompany this group to Waterdeep, and stay with them. Only a fool goes to Threeswords."

"Yet you wander the roads? Are you a fool, Matthew-san?"

Kamui sucked his breath through his teeth, unable to believe the words of his partner upon the road. "Subaru," he whispered softly in warning.

"I am no fool, Subaru," the soldier snorted quietly. "I've been as far as the crossroads south of the Dragon Sea, three days west of the dire city as the crow flies. Even so far removed is the evil so thick and ominous that I could not convince my steed to carry me further."

"And what were you doing there in the first place?" Subaru pressed.

"I'd heard of the strife of the people in that city, since a horrible tyrant took their freedom from them."

"Tyrant?" Kamui quipped, staring with huge eyes.

"A tyrant from evil lands," Matthew said with a nod. "They whisper that this tyrant is not of the Faerun. That he swept in from shadowy lands from far beyond to pilfer Threeswords of some riches that it contains in secret."

Subaru frowned, brown furrowed as he lifted gloved fingertips to hic chin. "Threeswords, holding some secret that would attract such a tyrant? Fairly unbelievable, if you ask me. That city has had nothing in it worthwhile since it was pillaged for the Regalia of Evil's Orb which was located within its Lordship's Keep's foundation and stripped by the necromancer who visited us from his Crystal Sphere. That evil has been long removed, spirited off to wherever that man's stronghold should happen to be - so long has it been gone that the town had actually recovered from the vile plague that covered it and nearly completely rebuilt to its prior state before death set its foot upon its lands."

"Neh, what's-"

"I'll explain later," Subaru promptly bit, cutting Kamui's questioning off.

"So you've been up on the times, eh?" Matthew observed with a nod. "Then you should know why I was there."

"Let me take a wild guess. People are suffering, so you rode to bring the light of the almighty Torm, given by his laws and justice, to ease their pain."

"You scoff my beliefs so?"

"He's a paladin?" Kamui chirped.

"No. A cleric," Subaru clarified.

"But he's not in robes!"

A soft sigh leaked past Subaru's lips. "Clerics don't have to wear robes. He's a cleric of a warrior God, so he's encouraged to wear armor and wield his weaponry in the names of his God's laws and justices to bring glory to Him by servitude to the people. Or something along those lines," the mage said with a nod. "That would be like saying that, because I practice the art of Necromancy and worship Kelemvor who reigns over the realm of the dead, I am required to wear heavy black robes with a hood drawn over my head at all times and wield a tall walking stick with mystic runes etched on its sides and a skull mounted upon its top."

Matthew laughed heartily at the description even as the boy bowed his head sheepishly. "Ah, take heart, lad. Subaru's always been this biting, for as long as I know. But his fangs are hardly poisonous, and never pierce with anything save sarcasm. Take not his words to heart."

"Mm," Kamui mumbled with a nod.

"But to the original subject. You rode to ease the suffering of Threeswords' people," Subaru said, arching a brow once more as he shot his most piercing of questioning looks to the horse-riding cleric.

"Yes," the armored man replied with a sullen nod, his merriment falling from his face as water over a falls. "Nearly a week out of that city was when I started encountering the undead."

"Undead?" Both Subaru and Kamui's voices sounded at the same moment, the necromancer's hissing with dreaded expectation and the boy's with shock.

"Quite a bit, actually. Zombies, skeletons, ghouls, ghosts, and no end to wraiths. Their masses did naught but thicken as I approached the crossroads. By the time I'd reached the roads that lead east, the evil in the air was so thick and palatable that even the grass had withered from its touch and birds and insects refused to fly over the lands. We trod upon the limbs of the deceased left to rot in the pale sun by those creatures of the night that infested the lands, so thick were the numbers of the massacred. I can not blame Sampson for refusing to set his hooves upon that path," the cleric sighed, reaching down with a gauntlet-covered hand to lightly pat his horse's flank.

"Wraiths..."

"You think perhaps it's your dear friend?" Matthew questioned, quirking a brow.

"He's capable of such, but that's not his style," Subaru softly answered with a shake of his head. "He has no interest in ruling lands or peoples, nor in any riches or artifacts of power. His only interest is blood and death."

Matthew shuddered. "A man who kills for the sake of killing alone. Quite terrible."

"Plus he's been in this region recently. I was perhaps a few days behind him when I arrived in Neverwinter a bare month ago."

Kamui choked on the breath he was drawing. "You know the guy that murdered all those people? That turned them into those... ghost things?"

"Wraiths," Subaru corrected with a nod. "Yes."

"How?"

"Another time," the mage answered with a sigh before turning back to the cleric upon his horse. "It's not him. He has no capacity for animating the dead in any form other than that of the wraith."

"I see," the soldier sighed. "You said you were thinking of going?"

"Aa."

"One simple word of advice then, my friend. Don't. No man has walked beyond that junction my horse and I reached and returned alive within this last fortnight."

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Kamui stared nervously at the necromancer while the older man let his eyes rove calmly over the pages of an ancient book he had opened upon his lap. "So," the boy quietly began, "this 'Threeswords' is a den of evil, and we're going there. Why?"

"I wish I knew," Subaru muttered, his gaze remaining fixed upon his tome. "The prophetess wants something done about it. Most likely, she wants the return of this 'tyrant' to its home plane. So I'm going to see what I'm supposed to do."

"Why am I coming with you?"

"Because you wanted to," Subaru said with a sigh. "Also, she directed me to bring you."

Kamui hugged his knees to his chest and petulantly placed his chin within the cradle created by his arms. "I wish I knew why. I don't know what good I can be to you, Subaru."

"We'll find out."

"You think so?"

"I'm fairly positive," Subaru said with a nod, lifting a nearly forgotten apple that sat on the ground at his side to his pant leg to wipe the road's dust from it before taking a bite. Chewing thoughtfully, he lifted his emerald gaze from the book's ancient pages and set it instead on the pouting boy at his side. "Don't worry. I don't consider you a liability."

"You don't?" Kamui asked softly, his voice belaying his lack of conviction in the necromancer's declaration.

"Really. I don't. There's got to be something vital that only you can do, and Hinoto-hime knows that. It's simply not been revealed yet."

"But in the meantime, I'm worthless. That's why you had to pay extra to the caravan leader, right?"

A light smile taking his lips, Subaru let his shoulders slump. "If it makes you feel any better, I suppose I can teach you the sword."

"Really?" Instantly, energy and excitement flooded the boy's amethyst eyes.

Subaru nearly dropped his apple as the superimposed dragon visible to his vision bounded up and down in place, its tail thwacking solidly into the ground every time it landed and its wings beating excitedly at its sides.

"Aa," he answered with as straight of a face as he could manage. "Whenever you like, I can teach you."

"Not magic?"

"I don't think you're ready for magic," Subaru said with a clip of his head.

"What do you mean?"

"Can you sit for ten hours a day reading the same two pages over and over until you have every stroke of every word memorized in perfect detail?"

Kamui's brows knitted as he scowled. "The sword will be fine."

"Thought so."

"So, can we begin tonight?" the boy happily exclaimed.

Subaru took a moment to consider what he'd just committed himself to. Before he could berate himself on his eager attempt to please the boy having resulted in less time for him to reflect upon the magic that would be his making or breaking in the coming battle with his prey and more dedication to the sword with which he was so verily outclassed, he sighed and let a smile take his lips. That smile reached his eyes as the boy nearly burst at the seams with transparent happiness upon seeing such an expression upon the normally melancholic face.

Carefully sweeping a long blade of grass between the ancient tome's pages to keep his place, he shut his studying material and laid it gingerly upon his sleeping roll. Rising, lifting his katana from its place beside that carefully spread roll as he did, he nodded to Kamui. "Very well."

He's barely straightened his stance when the caravan master's horn blew and the camp burst into motion.

Matthews galloped by upon his black steed, shooting one glance to Subaru. "Move, necromancer! We're being attacked!"

Kamui's eyes lit in fear as he edged his way towards the heavily walled wagon his and Subaru's bedrolls had been rolled out next to. Without a moment's hesitation, he dove into its protected recesses and contented himself with staring at the proceedings from the wagon's makeshift windows and doors.

"What is it?" Subaru shouted, even as he tossed the saya that encased his blade onto his bedroll and twirled the blade expertly in his hand once to garner a feel for its balance instantaneously.

"Undead!"

Subaru sighed, shaking his head even as he followed the galloping cleric as quickly as his tired legs would allow.

_tbc..._


End file.
